


Common Indecency

by growtilltall (ThereAreFiveLights)



Category: Daft Punk, The Strokes
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, implied alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-02
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-17 22:25:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1404793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereAreFiveLights/pseuds/growtilltall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That fic in which Guy convinces Thomas that letting him sleep with Julian Casablancas is a good idea.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hahahaha, I actually posted this in the middle of the night last night, and then immediately realized there were about ten thousand problems with it and took it down to rework it. I'm sorry, I jump the gun on these things sometimes.
> 
> This fic is based on yet another prompt I sent in to WaltreWhite on Tumblr and just couldn't resist writing. I've never had a muse before, but this might be coming close. It could just as easily be that creative writing eliminates stress and the Robot Overlords know how fucking stressful the end of the year is.
> 
> There is minimal French in this fic, quite a bit of internalized relationship drama, and a couple mentions of alcoholism. I know Julian Casablancas used to drink heavily, and that he quit in 2010? 2009? but for the sake of my story, in which they are all having promiscuous sex, he still has moments of indulgence.
> 
> Also this fic has like NO dialogue, which was difficult for me to do, but I'm trying to grow as a writer so. The next chapter will have more dialogue and less angst.
> 
> THOMAS POV

Thomas doesn't know what to expect when it's decided they should invite Julian back to their room. The word 'pleased' is not among the moods he finds himself considering, but it's a much better word than 'outraged' or, god forbid, 'jealous.' They've known each other a long time, drank together, fought, laughed, made music, even occasionally flirted. It never occurred to him until recently that they could be doing any more than that. 

They could be  _fucking_ , Guy groans in his ear as he forces his hand down the front of Thomas's jeans and rubs at the head of his dick through his boxer briefs, and didn't Thomas  _want_  to watch someone else fuck him?

He doesn't stick around for the actual proposition. He busies himself with their equipment, looking over the results of their first day's work. There are no fruits of their labor to examine and no one is less surprised than Thomas. It's impossible to create music, Thomas knows after more than two decades of collaborating as Daft Punk, to get anything done when Guy has something on his mind.

And Guy has been thinking about this for a while because he's been distracted not just today, but for most of the past week. He's been dropping hints, both subtle and not so subtle, asking invasive questions about Thomas's preferences. Of all the people Guy could choose, he couldn't have hit much closer to the mark. Julian is an ideal partner for either of them, or he would be if Thomas or Guy were free to sleep around without consequence.

When Guy wants something he knows isn't possible, he creates loop holes. It isn't cheating if they both _want_ Julian. He can assume Thomas _wants_ him as well because he does. Thomas is simply more old fashioned about the whole ordeal, he keeps up the appearances of modesty because if he doesn't, then he's got nothing.

In their body structure if not their height, and in the dark length of their hair, Guy and Julian look somewhat alike. When they stand close together, it's hard to miss the all the superficial similarities. They're intrinsically different people though. Thomas is reminded of that every time he sees Julian smile, and in the openness of his body language.

 x

Julian must say yes, because within seconds of Guy finishing their discourse, he's back at Thomas's side, all but grinding against his hip, begging, "Can we please go back to the hotel now?"

After all these years, Thomas is still unable to say no.

Thomas gives in easily because he hates that whining lilt in Guy's voice when he really wants something. So often he acts like a child rather than the nearly forty year old man he is. He pouts and grumbles when they're alone and when they go out he broods maliciously, with intent to injure. Guy has opinions about everything. He wants and he takes arbitrarily and there are days that Thomas refuses to even look at him because he's worn so thin- like an old book with the binding falling apart.

And Thomas cannot break the connection between them. There's nothing that will make him stop reciprocating that toxic desire, it's the physical proximity he can't get away from. The bond between them formed too fast, whatever adhesive holding them together is just too strong. Not that he wants to get away from Guy. He'd like to at least have the option to get away, if he ever needed to. (Thomas doesn't know it now, but it'll never get to that point, they'll need each other until they day they die, and every day up to that one will be all he ever needs.)

On the way to the hotel, Julian walks on Guy's side. He stays tucked into the far limits of Thomas's peripheral vision. Thomas reaches over and tucks his hand in Guy's back pocket when he knows Julian's watching. It's petty and jealous, but Thomas already has a pretty good idea of how this is going to go and he wants to get his grabs in while he still can.

 x

They're standing in the room and the silence is deafening. Whatever notions Julian was entertaining about their relationship have probably been blasted to hell by now.

The large suite has only one king sized bed and the sheets are still a mess from their morning sex. There's even a box of condoms sitting on Guy's side table, laying out there all exposed and revealing. Thomas watches as Julian takes it all in- smiles internally at the way Julian's brows raise at the sight of their shared suitcase where Guy's cheesy t-shirts are all tangled up in Thomas's gaudy button-ups.

Sometimes Thomas wonders why he has such difficulties with their relationship. It's absurd thinking about it now as he absorbs Julian's candid reaction to their shared life.

"So, how are we doing this?" Julian finally asks. He doesn't sound nervous or awkward, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth. Thomas doesn't have to ask to know he's been drinking and although it isn't an issue, he can't stop thinking about it.

The drinking hasn't become an issue.  _Yet_.

Thomas ends up dragging over an armchair and settling down in it a couple feet from the bed. He can't even admit to being turned on right now, and he's questioning why he even thought this was a good idea to begin with. And then he remembers that he  _never_  thought this would be a good idea. Guy shoots him a look that's almost apologetic, and then his full attention is on Julian.

Seeing them together is strange.

People don't realize how tall Julian is until he's looming right over them, he's well proportioned. Julian is about Thomas's height, give or take an inch or less, but he moves differently than Thomas. Where Thomas is slender, Julian is more like Guy- his thighs are thicker, hips filled out and back much broader. When he leans in and kisses Guy, they look like they're meant to fit together. There are no strange angles between them. The first time Guy moans, it's when Julian's hands disappear in his hair, and then Guy's hands are also tangled up in Julian's hair and he's pulling the long strands, twisting them in his fingers.

And then when they're fucking, they're really fucking.

Julian doesn't treat Guy like something breakable, he jerks and pushes at Guy's hips, flips him over like he can take it and drives into him relentlessly. And Guy does take it, he arches into it and keens, begs like a whore, drives back into Julian's heavy dick when he's getting fucked on his hands and knees like it's a competition.

It's the first time in recent memory, unless Guy has someone on the side (it's improbable, but not entirely impossible), Guy's received treatment quite this rough. When he and Thomas have sex, it's something like making love most of the time, and it's absolutely nothing like this. Julian deconstructs Guy completely, pulls him apart and takes every shred of agency Guy usually uses as a shield.

They're the embodiment of raw and filthy, rutting against each other, too exposed for Guy to be enjoying this as much as he thought he would. Something about that particularly thought is just a bit satisfying to Thomas, not because he wants Guy to feel uncomfortable, but because it's the only thing he's got to cling to instead of getting jealous.

Guy hates it when he's jealous, so Thomas makes an effort not to be. If that means he's going to take some small amount of sadistic pleasure in watching Guy manhandled in a way he's entirely incapable of doing, than so be it. Thomas vaguely realizes he's rock hard in his jeans. It's difficult not to become aroused, he rationalizes, knowing who it is getting fucked. And he can't quite bring himself to deny an attraction to Julian either, not that he'd ever tell Guy that.

He isn't going to give either of them credit for his arousal though. He'll deal with it later, when he isn't watching his partner getting progressively more wrecked, as appealing as the sight is. This is for Guy's benefit, Thomas knows that. Julian knows it too, probably. There's no room for a third on that bed, as large as it is, and Guy always gets what he wants.

Thomas adjusts the bulge in his jeans and collects his thoughts just in time to see Julian's hips snap forward particularly hard and the sound that leaves Guy's mouth is closer to hurt than pleasure. Thomas recognizes it because they've had their fair share of hostile encounters in the far long past. Although he knows that Guy is probably fine, his skin prickles with anxiety.

"Fuck," Julian says, pistoning hips coming to a halt. "Fuck, sorry, are you all right?"

"Yeah, just-" Guy lets out a hiss as Julian pulls out. Thomas watches them shifting about on the bed, and then Julian's the one on his back and Guy is sliding down onto his dick.

It's too slow for either of them to get off, but Guy isn't trying to get off. He's rolling his hips sensually, like a dancer, and trying his damnedest to get Thomas's attention. Thomas knows this because he feels Guy's eyes tearing his skin to pieces and rubbing salt into the wounds.

"Thomas," Guy pleads, "Thomas fucking look at me.  _Regardez moi_."

When Thomas picks his gaze up from the five-star hotel carpet, the first thing he sees are Julian's fingers grasping roughly at Guy's hips as he grinds up into him. He's close to coming, Thomas thinks, but Guy probably won't let him come- not until he's gotten there himself.

And then there's Guy's cock, flushed red and throbbing, leaking all over Julian's stomach like it's supposed to be there. Guy's eyes are nearly completely black, his blue irises an icy rim around the dilated pupil. It's the only time their eyes meet during the entire encounter, and then his eyes are shut, brow furrowed as he reaches down and starts jerking himself off with purpose.

When all's said and done, Thomas can't say it was a necessarily  _bad_  experience. Different, bordering on cathartic.

Julian goes back to his own room almost immediately and if Guy recognizes the shake in his hands as something other than post-orgasm shakes, he doesn't say anything. They'll wait until it's too late to say anything about _that._

Thomas waits until Guy falls asleep to slip into the bathroom and he jerks off in the shower, stroking himself slowly because he's been hard for so long and his entire body is too sensitive to do much more than press feather touches on his shaft and head. Coming is more about relieving pressure than receiving pleasure and he's grateful when it's over, leaned back against the wall and letting the hot water wash away the mess.

He has no doubt in his mind that nothing's going to change. The three of them are going to meet up in the studio tomorrow, putz around until someone's  inspired, and then they'll end up in a cafe or a bar or back in the hotel room... maybe not the hotel room. Maybe Guy will bring Julian back to the room on his own later, and Thomas won't be able to say anything because he's the one that sat there and watched them.

Thomas can't bring himself to lay in bed with Guy, the sheets still damp from fucking. It's too organic for Thomas, too real. He takes his seat in the armchair once again and watches him sleep, the smell of sex still heavy in the air.


	2. And Then All The Days In Between

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god dont' even ask me what i was thinking when i wrote this i need to go somewhere without a computer and think about what i've done jesus.
> 
> JULIAN POV.

 

It's being witness to Thomas and Guy's more private moments that really makes Julian feel like an intruder and as queer as it may seem, the introduction of sex into their friendship has been the most conventional part of their collaboration so far. Julian knew the reputation of Daft Punk long before this arrangement began. He knew they'd be spending hours listening to Thomas tweak at three second clips at a time, replaying the same sequences over and over until their brains start to scramble.

The painstaking alterations have made it easy for Julian to slip away, since he knows for a fact he's about as much help in their process as a blind painter. He finds himself going back to their room more often than not after those tedious studio sessions, always with Guy and only sometimes with Thomas in tow. Something about the arrangement makes him believe that the physical connection between the two isn't quite as committed as he believed it to be.

That opinion only lasts in Julian's mind for as long as he doesn't see the two of them alone together.

It's past midnight the first time he sees them. For all intents and purposes, the studio should be closed to the general public, but Thomas and Guy are everything except commonplace and that means they're allowed in whenever they want. Standing in the doorway, left cracked open an inch or so by accident rather than design, Julian gets a glimpse of the life beneath the heavy metal masks of normalcy.

They speak in French because they believe themselves to be alone. It flows quickly from Thomas's mouth and Julian is amused to find that the same stutter, although less pronounced, still makes its way into his speech. Guy speaks less, but everything he says sounds like a punch-line- delivered hard and quick in between Thomas's ambling sentences.

Julian leans against the door frame, careful not to let it open any more than it already is, and continues to watch and listen even though every fiber of his being is trying to convince him he's invading their privacy. He figures he's slept with them, with Guy at least, so what's a little eavesdropping between friends? between fuck buddies?

He doesn't know any French, but he can tell when the conversation shifts from music to the _other_ because Guy jumps up to sit on one of the few empty surfaces, his feet dangling above the floor like a child, and he says something that sounds almost like a tease.

The change in Thomas is immediate and jarring. In all their encounters so far, Thomas has been the distant puppeteer, always far enough away to avoid attention and never quite far enough to disengage. He engages now, steps in the spaces between Guy's legs and rests his hands on Guy's hips, fingers disappearing under the fabric in a way that looks more casual than sexual and that in itself makes Julian's skin goosebump. They touch each other in spontaneous and offhand ways, fingers twisting at locks of hair and straightening clothes like a mother would to a child. They kiss like a secret, aware of each other's fragilities as they look into one another's eyes. Guy is always the first one to pull away.

Julian watches for another minute or so, and then leaves when Thomas's hands begin to move further south, he excuses himself silently back to the hotel, to his own room for the first time in over a week.

 

He starts noticing the subtler touches after that: Thomas's hand resting protectively on the small of Guy's back or the minute glances exchanged between the two of them when something they've done is particularly good. Julian doesn't know how he missed the looks between them in their bed play before- how Guy's gaze always seems to drift over to Thomas when intimacy begins to supersede physical pleasure.

It makes Julian want to remove himself from the situation because he's somehow violating the intercourse between them even though it's entirely consensual.

They're fucking, hard and fast, Guy's hand pressed up against the headboard and as he ruts back violently into Julian's hips, and Thomas looks like he's breaking. Julian isn't blind to the bulge pressing into the front of Thomas's jeans, but the furrow of his brow is anything but pleased. It makes Julian want to fuck into Guy even harder to push him away and he does so- grinds harder into Guy's smaller, prone body, digs his fingers into Guy's pale hips and leaves marks.

Thomas flinches and takes a shaky breath, just barely leans in closer to catch the pain through the pleasured sounds Guy is making into the pillow. He doesn't ask them to stop. He never asks them to stop.

Guy pushes boundaries as easily as he draws breath. It's as if he doesn't care at all that Thomas cares a bit too much. Julian lets every selfish request pervade his being and gives in to every cry. When he comes, it isn't pleasure radiating at the base of his spine, but relief as the sickness of desire trickles from his body in spurts and pulses.

 

Julian wakes in their bed earlier than usual, tangled up in the sweat stained sheets that feel more like prison than paradise. Against his better judgment, he presses his ear to the closed bathroom door and listens to the shower running. He still doesn't understand a lick of French, but he hears the muffled argument, voices hissing over the fall of water on the shower floor.

He gets back into bed and forces himself back to sleep. When he wakes up again, Guy and Thomas are gone and he digs a barely touched bottle of scotch from his bag and takes a long drink before heading to the studio because it makes the intrusion upon their life easier to swallow.

They're already hard at work fine-tuning the last touches of the instrumental track. They play the original recording for him, and then the final product. It reminds Julian of the degradation of their relationship. Before he entered the picture, they were the pristine final product and now they've declined into something unstable and fragile.

When Guy asks him to come back to their room at night he almost says no, and then Guy's mouth is pressed to the base of his throat, teeth threatening his skin as his fingernails find the tracks on his back from the night before.

Thomas says nothing, but Julian hears the foundation between them crack just a little bit more.

 

They find each other in a bar at eleven in the morning. The very hour _Liberty Tavern_ starts serving alcohol, Julian's sitting in a high stool, ordering a double shot of whatever's cheapest with a splash of diet coke for flavor. Thomas takes the seat next to him, graceful despite the angular nature of his long limbs, and orders the same.

"Where's Guy-Man?" Julian asks despite himself. Bringing up Guy before saying hello feels like yet another infringement of the dynamic, but he can't stop himself.

He swallows his drink in one go and pushes the small tumbler to the edge of the bar for a refill and it sickens him when Thomas does the same.

"I didn't know you started drinking again," Thomas says carefully, every individual syllable out of his mouth feels heavy, like a tongue covered in a layer of honey. It still manages to sound bitter.

"I never really stopped," Julian replies. "Quitting is always temporary."

He takes the second drink considerably slower, if only to mask his desire to drink it fast. It makes him feel impossibly more exposed and he thinks that maybe that was Thomas's intention when he followed him into the bar.

"The track is almost finished."

Thomas is fishing for a reaction- disappointment or relief or a mix of the two. Julian gives about as much as can be expected from him, which is nothing.

He slaps thirty dollars on the bar and walks out, leaving his glass half empty on the bar.


	3. Until The Last Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guy-Man POV

Guy likes the laughter Julian brings to the studio. He and Thomas have their jokes and jibes, but Julian's sense of humor is a different color on the palette they've developed over the years. Thomas, he thinks, has had a harder time acclimating to the new presence, but now that they've reached the end of their journey, they're all feeling a bit sentimental.

He sleeps snuggled warm between Thomas's back and Julian's chest until Thomas inevitably gets up and does whatever it is he does at four in the morning these days. Removing oneself that early from the comfort of bed is a practice Guy finds frankly appalling, but he supposes that's probably also why he has embarrassing middle-aged love handles and Thomas does not. He yawns and rolls into Julian's arms, away from the cold air seeping under the sheets.

Tomorrow, he thinks, I'll get up early tomorrow.

Sleep doesn't come right away- he stays up and listens for a few more minutes as Thomas scuffles around the room getting dressed and gathering his phone and wallet. Just before he leaves, he pauses by the bed and Guy lifts his head sleepily.

"Try to get up before noon, please," Thomas whispers, putting his weight on one long arm to lean over and press his mouth to Guy's forehead. The fingers of Thomas's free hand linger for a moment at the junction of Guy's jaw and neck, and then he brushes back Guy's hair behind his ear and presses another kiss to his temple. " _Je t'aime_."

"Bring me back a coffee and I'll do whatever you want," Guy replies, throat raspy from sleep. " _Je t'aime aussi_."

The door shuts quietly behind Thomas when he leaves and Guy burrows back into the covers, tangling his legs with Julian's and warming his hands between their bodies.

Julian leaves today; he's got a set of gigs somewhere or another and that means their two week affair is coming to a close. Guy tries to imagine for a moment how he'll say goodbye- probably just a hug and twin kisses on each cheek in the bustling airport. Or maybe they'll just do the kiss and drive and their parting will be stale and formal in the confines of the car.

Either way it doesn't feel like anything's really over. He and Thomas have to stay at least another three or four days to work out the final kinks from their song in the studio, to make up for all the time they lost screwing around.

Guy imagines... Thomas will probably be relieved when Julian is gone. Not because of the sex, which has been a journey in itself, but because of the music. All the years they've made music, it's almost always been alone in Thomas's stuffy room and now they're travelling all over the world and getting involved in the musical conversation. To Thomas, it must feel like letting strangers into his home.

Julian groans something halfway into his pillow and his fingernails scrape gently down Guy's side. Whether his intention is to tickle, tease, or simply wake him up, Guy can't tell. He lets his face form into a half-hearted scowl and pretends to be asleep.

 x

When it comes down to it, the airport is neither entirely awkward nor comfortable. They arrive about two hours earlier than they need to (thanks to Thomas's heckling) and take Julian as far as one of those overpriced airport bars to wait out the tedious bustle. Guy allows himself to drink a bit too much wine and he abandons the cover of his sunglasses for a while, leaning over the table to making lewd jokes about fucking one last time in the bathroom before Julian has to go.

Thomas, for his part, looks appropriately exasperated by the whole ordeal while Julian simply leers into his glass of whiskey.

"Really though," Julian slurs more than says, draining the last of his whiskey with a warm smile, "It was an honor working with you guys. You're an inspiration."

Thomas blushes a little and Guy hides behind his wine glass to keep himself from pointing it out.

"I-I- W-Well, it w-w-was a group effort, you know? We all work well t-together. The music is the important part."

Julian smiles widely, a real smile, and surprises everyone when he takes Thomas's face between both hands and kisses him directly on the mouth. "You need to learn to take a compliment," he says. And then he orders another round for the three of them.

As far as Guy knows, it's the first time Julian and Thomas have kissed, and it isn't a _real_ kiss for all intents and purposes, but it's progress. It makes Guy wish they'd been a little more experimental because for all the kissing they've done, Guy has never seen Thomas on the receiving end of a rough, sloppy kiss.

Next time. 

x

The time comes and they say their goodbyes with considerably more giggling than Guy expected. Julian assures them both that he will, in fact, be able to get through security completely intoxicated (he's done it many times before) and Guy assures him that if he gets arrested, they will bail him out of jail. Thomas is mostly silent, but only because people are staring.

They watch Julian disappear into the security line with some amount of nostalgia, and then head back to the car.

"I think he'd been holding back," Thomas says as they walk through the ten miles of long hall back to the parking lot.

"How do you mean?"

"The drinking," Thomas replies. "And before you try to give me your opinion on the matter, remember that you're as drunk as you've been in years right now."

Guy tries to glare at Thomas in response, but then he hiccups and they both laugh. 

x

"Were you jealous?"

"I don't think this is the right time for that conversation."

"Why not? We're alone. Are you upset with me?"

"I'm never upset with you."

"Not even the time I sold your first press Pink Floyd record?"

"That was years ago."

"You were still upset though. You're upset now."

"Not when I'm driving, that's all I meant. I'm a bit upset that you drank so much knowing we have to go back to the studio and work, but-"

"What if I don't want to go back to the studio?" Guy suggests, reaching out to taunt the rough denim of Thomas's jeans. "Maybe I want you to take me back to the hotel and-"

" _Guillaume_ , not _now_."

They drive the rest of the way in silence and Guy can't shake the feeling that maybe he's pushed a little too far. It worries him sometimes, although he knows it doesn't show, that he might be driving Thomas away.

When it comes time to choose between the two, studio or hotel, Thomas wordlessly makes the turn towards the hotel and Guy mutters a quiet thank you in return. 

x 

They shower first and the chill water siphons some of the daze from Guy's head to the drain, eliminating the alcohol heat. It's awkward and cramped, but he gets on his knees on the hard acrylic tub and uses his mouth on Thomas. The press against his throat and wide stretch of his mouth grounds him just a little more as he digs his fingers into Thomas's hips.

"Stop," Thomas groans, squirming away, " _Arrête,_ I can't-"

Stumbling into the bedroom makes Guy feel like they're both drunk, dripping water all over the floor and unable to keep their hands from each other. Thomas is almost rough for a moment- when he forces Guy to his back on the bed- and then a calm falls over him once again.

Their sex is unhurried and somehow still too fast- Thomas presses his thumb against the seam of Guy's lips, the pad of his finger sliding along the wet tip of Guy's tongue.

"I don't love you despite your hurting me," he says, hips canting relaxed against Guy's body. "Because I love you, you can't hurt me."

Guy's chest swells with heat and he clings to Thomas, bites at his shoulder and hitches his knees higher on Thomas's hips. There's still some inevitable guilt- if he loved Thomas as much as Thomas loved him, he wouldn't feel compelled to test their boundaries, crash into them like a dervish trying to break out from the eternally spinning design.

He thinks about Julian, wrecking him in the very bed he's being made love to, and the smell of him is still on the sheets. He shuts his eyes and pulls himself impossibly closer to Thomas's body to get away from the smell and Thomas slows, stumbles with the added weight.

"Get out of your head," Thomas murmurs, "Stay with me."

Guy feels himself get repositioned, vaguely aware of Thomas shifting and then he's on his side, thigh hitched on Thomas's hip. Thomas isn't reaching nearly as deep, but their bodies glide together. It feels a bit like making music; Thomas gives what he can and Guy takes it all greedily, drinks in as much as he can and gives it back like wine from water.

There's no use in trying to make things any different, he thinks, they belong to each other. In all the time they spent as part of a _ménage à trois_ these past two weeks, he never stopped belonging explicitly to Thomas. He was never quite as compromised as he believed himself to be.

When it's over, they roll apart, facing each other with a few inches of space between them on the damp sheets. Guy falls asleep watching Thomas fall asleep, the gap between them closed only by the air they expel and inhale, mingling between them like a shared soul. 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. So this was 100% more sappy than I meant it to be. Sorry. Also, it took me forever to finish because of finals. 
> 
> A few notes...  
> \+ Guy's POV chapter was written considerably different style than the others because he's really versatile in his taste, so I feel like he'd narrate in a sporadic sort of way.  
> \+ This almost had a very, very unhappy ending, but I can't seem to inflict angst and pain on Daft Punk the same way I can my other fandoms.  
> \+ Thank you to everyone who read this! You're all my Darlings :)  
> \+ Thank you especially to lefunkbacktothepunk on tumblr for her support :))


End file.
